Nothing To Fear
by shermitkermit
Summary: A lonely walk home gets interesting and potentially dangerous when you meet a strange man in a bar, but is this mysterious character as much of a saint as he appears...
1. A Coke and The Smiths

It's dark. Not late. Around half sevenish maybe. You are on your way home from a date, if you could call it that. The guy was tall, too tall, so tall that when he kissed you on the cheek to say goodnight he literally had to bend down. There had been nothing wrong with him of course, just like there had been nothing wrong with the last three guys you had seen, not unless you want to count a couple of freckles and a bit of a wonky eye. No, the reason the date wasn't a success was your fault. Your fault meaning that you just simply were not attracted to any of these guys. As hard as you tried you just couldn't bring yourself to like them. You knew the reason for this, it was all these stupid films you had been watching lately, where the girl always got this amazing, exciting guy that really intregued her. You wanted to know more about them just _watching_ the film. It wasn't that the guys you'd been seeing were boring, nor were they uninteresting. Hey, Leonard had even been scuba diving in New Zealand! They just didn't have that something, it sounded cliche but there had been no spark between you and Jake, or Billy, or Leonard or Harvey. You just _knew_ they weren't right.

It was mid October and the streets were mostly empty apart from a couple of dodgy looking blokes in hoodies and an elderly lady walking her sad looking dog. Evidentally people had better things to do with their Friday nights. It was ok, you'd go home, put your pyjamas on, watch some awful Friday night television which you secretly loved, maybe make a hot chocolate and then get some sleep. It was while pondering the wild night ahead of you that some thing caught your eye. A large, brightly lit pumpkin hanging outside the entrance to the pub. Where you lived wasn't massively remote, but it wasn't the place you'd get jam packed traffic every night. It was the kind of place if you didn't know someone you knew _of_ them. And you knew that Mr Moone, the landlord of the pub absolutely detested public holidays, Halloween above them all. Which made the pumpkin hanging outside very suspicious...

You hesitated as you walked past the pub. It was starting to get dark. You should go home. But then, you never had been one for _should. _Why not? You'd had a long night, you deserved a drink. A coke maybe. You didn't fancy getting off your face tonight. Besides, it wasn't as if you would get served anyway. As you approach the entrance you realise how thirsty you actually are. The last drink you had had was a rank tasting cider that Harvey had bought you. You could still taste the dry, sour taste in your mouth, like an apple that had been sat on the sid for too long. Reaching the doorway you discover the door is wide open and there is quite a crowd inside. There's music too. You can just about hear the sound of Guns N Roses over the ruckus of the crowd. Maybe this was a bad idea. You didn't want to get involved with another man tonight, one was enough for this evening. It wasn't as if you always had a man on the go, you were no slut, it was just the kind of attention you seemed to attract. Never a 'Hello miss how are you?', never a 'can i take you out to dinner/a movie etc' oh no. The most romantic thing you had ever got was 'aye up love can I buy you a drink?'

"Well well wot 'ave we got 'ere, ain't you sommet, can i getcher a drink lovely?"

"No thanks," you said politely to the muscular man that had just offered to get you a drink. He was tall, probably double your height. He wore a black tank top and had a bald head that reflected light in every direction. He may not have been thick, but he sure looked it. Like one of those henchmen you see in gangster films, the one the big boss doesn't give a damn about, but he can sure as hell knock someone out. You quickly shuffle over to the bar before the bald man can respond.

"Hey can I get a coke please?" you asked the man behind the bar. He was relatively young, compared to Mr Moone anyway, he looked about thirty. Blonde hair, average looking face, good teeth. You saw them when he smiled in response to your question and gave a quick nod. There were three men sat at the bar. The one sat at the far end wore dungarees and had his greasy brown hair in one long plat, the one sat nearest the centre was hunched over slightly, reading some form of magazine, his light brown hair laying untamed atop his head. Then there was the fellow nearest the window, whom you had just had to pass to get your order in. Upon passing him you had suddenly noticed a vile smell emitting from him, so you decided against sitting by him. After pondering the greasy plat guy for all of half a second you decided to take a seat nearest the reading guy. He looked the most normal of the three, from what you could see anyway, which, in all fairness, was just the back of his head. You didn't sit next to him but you took the seat two spaces down from him. You decided against sitting next to a random stranger in a bar. You weren't _that _girl. You sat and waited for your coke while the reading man read and the barman fetched a glass. As he filled it up you heard a voice from behind you. The same voice that you had just declined a drink from.

"Oi you, i offered yer a drink ain't yer gonna take it? I got plenty a money if yer want a cocktail er something"

Blondie the barman glanced up and nodded towards the bald man.

"Think it's for you," he said quietly.

You turned and put your hand out in a 'no thanks' gesture.

"Honestly" you said, "I can get my own drink"

"That ain't right, ain't no young girl should be going out gett'n 'er own drink, come on just let me get yer a -"

"Really, I am ok," you said, a little firmer. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

"Is just a drink fer gad's sakes girl, ain't yer gonna let me getcher one -"

With that it appeared reading guy had had enough. With a swift turn on the stool he stared the bald man straight in the eyes, this already appeared to weaken the man, he looked almost hypnotised by reading guy's eyes. When you looked at him you could understand why. He was probably the most beautiful man you had ever seen. Not as in mucles, not as in tall dark and handsome, not as in Bruce Willis or Stallone, or any of the guys from your action movies (another one of your guilty pleasures). He was genuinely beautiful. His face, perfectly chiselled, was so intreguing that you couldn't tear your own eyes away. His eyes, blue as one of those swimming pools at really expensive hotels - you'd seen the adverts - were like glaciers, frozen like ice as he seemed to stare into the bald man's soul.

"She said, she didn't want a drink."

You had forgotten he had a voice. You had forgotten he could talk. Forgotten _you _could talk. Forgotten everything for you had been so lost in eyes that held so much mystery, that when he spoke it almost frightened you. When he spoke everything else disappeared. You could no longer hear the chatter of the women sat in the corner. The clinking of glasses disappeared. Even the faint drone of Morrissey in the background seemed to go silent when he spoke. Those seven words hit the bald man in the face, like a punch or a hard slap. Nevertheless he wasn't giving up that easily, he couldn't look that weak in front of his friends, who had now gathered into a small crowd and were watching the incident.

"Aye mister i weren't talking ter y-"

"I realise you weren't talking to me Mister Zsasz, but if i'm not mistaken i do not believe this girl was remotely interested in you purchasing a drink for her am i right?" He did not look at you. He had spoken so fast and said a lot of words, but his voice had remained the same calm, almost monotone voice for the entire length of it, you had not really taken in anything he had said. You weren't even sure if the last part was rhetorical or whether this is where you were supposed to come in. You decided you should probably say something. Swimming pool eyes remained frozen, his expression emotionless, he almost looked bored. Still, he did not look at you, his eyes remained solely focussed on the man you thought you heard him refer to as Mr Zazz or something. You could not be sure, you were a little shaken if truth be told.

"Uh... I,"

"Tell him you don't want the drink," Swimming pool eyes' voice was calm, but firm. Something told you it was imperitive you do as he said. His face still locked on the man, who currently looked like he would rather be anywhere but here.

"I don't want a drink," you said. Firmly this time, like Swimming pool eyes. You kept your cool and turned around to face the bar, your back to the man. You closed your eyes and for a second, you thought you were going to get a smack in the head or something like that. You waited. You waiting to be hit, or for an angry response. But there was nothing. Eventually you heard a sigh and the footsteps walking away told you the guy had given up, you don't know what the man with big eyes had just done, but it had worked. He turned round rather cheerfully and said "so, coke was it?"

Smooth as a whistle he slipped a fiver out of his pocket and slid it across the bar. Blondie took it graciously and rummaged in the till for a second.

"Keep the change," it was more of an order than a statement. It was now the man turned to face you. You couldn't bring yourself to look up for fear you would get lost in those eyes again, but you couldn't stare at the table all night.

"Are you alright?" this was not an order, or a statement. This was definitely a question. All the tension that had just been created by the man two seats down from you had suddenly disappareted and it was as if you were having a friendly conversation with someone you'd known for years.

"Yeah... yeah thanks for the drink I didn't -"

"Need another man to buy a drink for you," he said, finishing your sentence before you had even thought of the end.

"Need you to scare him off," you corrected him, smiling slightly. "I can stand up for myself."

He continued to stare at you and you returned the favour. You looked him in the eye. Something told you this was uncommon, for someone to return his gaze with the same thought in their head.

_Who is this person?_

You knew it was uncommon because he looked, for the first time since he had started speaking, interested. His bland, vacant facial expression had gone. His mask had been removed and for the first time he actually looked like he wanted to know more.

"Are yeh alright?" Blondie asked from over the bar. You had forgotten he was there. He was American, Texas by the sound of it. Unless he was putting on an accent. That would explain the pumpkin. The music. All of the customers. Mr Moone had hated customers. He was not a people person. Mrs Moone had always gone on at him about that. "Where do you expect to get in life with this darn attitude? You can't go around ownin' pubs with a god damn hatred of people! It'll drive ya mad!" she had been a nice lady. You remembered Mr Moone's face the day she died. He had opened as usual. You had come in with a boy, you forget which one. He had looked so sad, so lonely. You had almost felt sorry for him. And then he kicked you out and slammed the door.

"I'm fine thanks," you nodded in reply. Blondie smiled and went off to fill up the barrells. You took a sip of your drink and screwed up your face in surprise. You liked vodka and coke but the shock of it made you recoil. You turned to Swimming pool eyes who was sat there trying to oppress his laughter. He put his hand to his mouth to try and stop himself but it didn't work.

"You-" you looked at him with a mixture of both a shocked expression and an impressed one. That was the kind of thing you did at parties when your best friend wasn't looking. But how did he -

"I'm sorry i'm sorry," he shook his head. "You looked like you could do with a proper drink."

"Well thanks but I..." you contemplated getting up and leaving. You had just almost got beaten up and now some stranger was spiking your drink. It was time to go. Yet you didn't want to tear yourself away just yet...

"...if I am drinking, I am not drinking alone." You grinned menacingly. "Can I get some shots over here."

Swimming pool eyes looked almost scared, but impressed, as you challenged him to finish all six vodka shots before you had finished your coke. Of course you won, you had always been good with your drink, but aside from that you had only had half your coke left in the first place. You were in hysterics by the time he had got to the sixth one.

"Ahhhh," he let out a gasp as he slammed the glass down. "Not bad," he said, looking impressed. "What now?" you asked excitedly.

"Now," he said slowly, "now I am starting to find that disgusting lamp very attractive," he glanced over at the velvet looking purple pampshade that was placed dodgily on top of the lightbulb that porturded from the wall. You laughed and put your hand on his shoulder to stop you falling off your stool. You don't know at which point it was had had moved to the seat closer to you, you could of been the one that moved closer to him. You can't remember. "You are brilliant," you said in between laughing and gasping for air.

"Jonathan, you can call me Jonathan," he said, looking at you with what you almost thought to be affection.

"Oh, Jonathan!" You said in a mocking posh voice, swaying a little. "Can I call you Johnny, like Johnny Bravo." You don't know why you used the posh voice, Jonathan wasn't even that posh a name, heck, you'd known loads of Johns, you probably went out with one. Jonathan was different. Never had someone introduced themselves as Jonathan. You liked it. It was... different.

"You can call me whatever you like," he smiled, he was taller than you sat down, but not by a lot, you had never considered yourself to be tall and by the looks of it, neither had he.

"No," you looked up (but not by much) at him, "Jonathan is nice. I like Jonathan."

"Thank... you?" He said questioningly, squinting his eyes as you a little, as if he was trying to work out if you were being sarcastic or not. "And you are..."

You told him your name and he nodded, "more drinks?" he said with a cheeky smile, already knowing the answer.

Drinks with strange men was never a good idea. Especially when you didn't know the first thing about the guy other than his name. You liked him though. You wanted to know more, and something told you you would... in time.


	2. The Slightly Intoxicated Walk Home

Standing up for the first time in what felt like years, you stumbled towards the door.

"Woah woah woah, steady there," you felt an arm grab your elbow, supporting you as you attempted to make your way outside, although you weren't sure if he was supporting you or if you were supporting him. You thought you must of been more drunk than him but who knows. Maybe he was just good at hiding it. He held the door open for you and you thought you saw him nod at someone back in the pub, probably just saying goodbye to his little bald friend.

"Well thank you for a brilliant night, Jonathan," you said his name slowly, the door swung shut and you turned around, half expecting him to be gone. But there he was still. He hadn't left yet. "Here's to the best date i've been on in a long time, and I don't even know what you do or anything." You turned and started making your way, clumsily, back home. It had gotten colder since you'd arrived. Usually you couldn't feel the cold when you'd been drinking, so you knew it must of been especially chilly. You pulled the collar of your coat up a little more in a pathetic attempt to keep warm.

"I'm a doctor," came the voice from behind you, and you heard his footsteps on the pavement begin to get closer. In a second he was by your side and had grabbed your elbow again, just in time too, for you were just about to stumble clumsily off the edge of the curb. "And if you think, as a doctor, i am letting you walk home in the middle of the night like this you've got another thing coming," he laughed.

"Jonathan the doctor," you said, impressed. More to yourself than to him. You yawned as you nestled your head into his shoulder and he put his arm around you, he'd obviously sensed you shivering.

"I like it," you smiled. Sleepily, you made your way back home, giving him directions as you went along so he could kind of steer you in the right way. It must of been a funny sight. You wish you could of seen it. A couple of times you stumbled and he had to catch you before you fell face down on the concrete. It was only right he took you home, you guessed. After all, it was his fault you were in the state you were in in the first place.

"I don't think i'll be drinking again for quite a while," you groaned when you had almost reached home. "You won't be saying that tomorrow, well... today i guess seen as it's-" he checked his watch "-two oclock, my how time flies. You'll be out getting even more smashed won't you, with your friends, saturday night?" You laughed at this remark. The suggestion you had _friends. _You did. But they weren't the type to go out and get totally off their faces every week. Sometimes you wished they were.

"Why, why don't we do this again... tomorrow?" you slurred, looking up at him. You had reached your front gate now and were now stood directly infront of him. He gripped you, gently, by your shoulders to keep you upright. It was then you saw an emotion enter his eye that you had yet to see. Even through the dim glow of the lamp on your front porch, the worry that had just flooded his gaze was unmistakable. He looked, for the first time, _scared_. He looked sad. He said your name and looked down at you with those eyes you'd now grown quite accustomed to.

"I can't see you again, ever" he said it quickly, as if he wanted to get it out of the way. He genuinely looked upset but something told you he wasn't lying. It wasn't that he didn't want to see you again, he obviously had his reasons. You paused for a second, absolutely gutted that finally you had found a guy you really really liked. There was a spark. There was chemistry. There was _excitement_. And now he was telling you this was a one off, just a one night thing. You tore your eyes away from his and looked down at the ground. "I..." you didn't know what to say. You couldn't be angry. You weren't even sure if you were angry. Just disappointed. And sad. You wondered if anyone would be up. Probably not, you'd have to creep in as quietly as you could. You'd explain in the morning, you went out, ended up staying at a friends, felt sick and came home? Yes that would do. You wouldn't turn around, you thought. You'd make your way quickly up the path, get in and slam the door - quietly ofcourse - and then probably have a good old fashioned sliding down the fridge where is my life going why does everyone hate me cry. This is not how it happened.

"Guess i'll be seeing you then... or not." You shrugged, doing your very best to look like you couldn't care less when in actual fact you were gutted. The first good looking bloke in ages and he's married, or got a girlfriend, or is married to his job or some shit like that.

Typical.

"Goodbye Jonathan."

That was it for him. No sooner had you taken one step up the path you felt his hand grab your waist, this time not gently. This time in a heat of mad passion as he spun you around and pulled you close to him. It was almost like his name was a password; a code that initiated a sudden scene of wild passionate embracing. He kissed you on the lips; not like any of the guys you'd been out with though, none of that washing machine tongue crap, this was a proper kiss. It was incredible. All those things you are supposed to hear when you have _that_ kiss: the bells, the fireworks, the cannons, whatever. You heard them. He pushed his hands through your hair and you brought yours up to his face. It didn't last as long as it could of. You were the one to pull away. You couldn't do this. You were fed up of guys that just wanted one thing, and though you knew Jonathan wasn't like this it was the same principal. You were never going to see him again, he had made that clear.

"Thank you," you said, really meaning it. You savoured the last second you had gazing into his giant blue eyes and he looked almost as if he was doing the same with yours.

Then you turned around.

You walked quickly up the path, narrowly avoiding a collision with a plant pot on the doorstep. Rummaged hurriedly for your keys and let yourself in.

"Hey," he called your name in a soft tone to as not to wake anyone, but loud enough to be heard by you.

"Take care of yourself,"

"You know I can," you smiled mockingly, but genuinely meaning it.

And with that you shut the door.


End file.
